Page 2 of Snowed In With the Grump
And yeah, I felt like a real fool for ever having hooked up with someone like that. I guess I really didn’t know him.
Now, as I sat in a dead car with tears rolling down my face, I wondered what I had ever done to deserve this. Him. This. Bad fucking luck, time and time again.
Brady told me over and over that he loved my curvy self. And I believed him. But seeing bottle-blonde, clip-on tits Samantha on top of him like that? It felt like a lie. And I felt... fat.
I wiped my tears away because...they weren’t doing me any good, and no one could see them to offer me sympathy. Not that I wanted sympathy.
Well, let’s be honest since you probably already know... yes, I wanted sympathy. A whole fuckload of sympathy, and I wanted it now.
I wanted strong, safe, trustworthy arms wrapped around me and someone I could believe when they said they liked what they saw. Me.
And then the god of shit-happenings must have realized that Lucy Dixon didn’t deserve the poo sandwich he’d been serving me daily for far too long...and gave me a morsel of hope.
Through the thickening snow, I spotted what looked like smoke rising from a chimney. A cabin...thank god. I grabbed my purse and the emergency blanket from my trunk, then started trudging through the knee-deep snow.
By the time I reached the cabin's front porch, I was shivering so hard my teeth were chattering. I knocked on the solid wooden door, praying whoever lived here wasn't an axe murderer.
The door swung open, and...
Oh. OH.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
I just about dropped to my knees to thank God for all the shit He’d... She’d... served me so far in life, only to see the earth-god standing before me.
I lined up all the heroes in the spicy romance books I’d read, and not one of them looked like this mountain man. This god of the forest. This woodsman.
He filled the entire doorframe...six and a half feet of broad-shouldered, flannel-wearing man, with a beard that would make Paul Bunyan jealous and dark eyes that could make a moose weak at the knees.
"What." It wasn't even a question, just a gruff statement of annoyance.
Oh, fuck. He already doesn’t like me. Figures. What the fuck, I’m here, and he needs to save me whether he likes it or not, because it is so fucking cold. If he didn’t let me inside...and fast...he’d have a frozen corpse to deal with, and that would be more trouble than I was worth.
"Hi," I managed through chattering teeth. "My car broke down, and I was hoping I could use your phone? Or maybe just warm up for a minute?"
He looked me up and down, his expression somewhere between irritated and concerned. "You're not dressed for this weather."
I glanced down at my city boots and wool peacoat. "I wasn't planning on hiking through a blizzard today."
He sighed, the sound so deep it was almost a growl. He was a bear. That was it. A big, beautiful bear dressed like a man.
“Get in before you freeze to death. I don't need that on my conscience."
I slipped past him into the cabin, and the warmth from his fireplace hit me like a wave. The cabin was surprisingly cozy...allwood and warm light, with a massive stone fireplace dominating one wall.
"Thank you," I said, turning to face him. "I'm Lucy, by the way."
"Didn't ask." He shut the door firmly against the wind. "Phone's dead. Storm took out the lines."
"Oh." I tried not to let my disappointment show. "Well, I appreciate you letting me in anyway, Mr...?"
He crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge against the flannel. I’m sure if he flexed them, it would rip.
"Griffin."
"Just Griffin?" I asked.
"Just Griffin,” he said.
